How to Hold Sway
by Dayang Lucilla
Summary: What if Hermione was in Slytherin? Would things have changed? She'd be a Slytherin Princess, still as golden, only more cunning and less conventional. Let her teach you to gain influence over the very people who crave it. Hints of D/Hr


**How to Hold Sway

* * *

**

_**-Project confidence**_

"Granger, Hermione," called the stern, stately teacher. Hermione stopped bouncing on the balls of her feet—she had been bouncing? Tsk, tsk—and trudged forward.

This was almost like she had stepped into a book, a fantasy the like of which Lewis Carroll or Ursula K. Le Guin would have written. She had read all there was to know about her new school—at least, she hoped so; but still, being here for real made goose bumps erupt continuously down her arms and legs. Look at that enchanted ceiling, the thousand floating candles, the beautiful silk banners, and that regal old man seated on the high table with his long, long beard and half-moon spectacles! These people around her were iwitches and wizards/i and ishe was one of them!/i

You better believe it, Hermione. You have a right to be here. And you'll learn everything else you need to learn. And you'll be top of the class, or die trying.

"Hmmm, welcome to the Wizarding world, Miss Granger. You have a complex mind, don't you? And a very intelligent mind it is, too! Quite unusual. With such strong aspirations as well. Oh and a desire for influence. Interesting."

Hermione stifled her astonishment at the foreign voice in her head. The Sorting Hat. She should have known it would talk inside her head—it had sung to the whole school after all.

"Please, sir, just put me where I am most suited."

"Where you are most suited, hmmm? Very well—SLYTHERIN!"

_...those cunning folk use any means_

_to achieve their ends._

Oh. Indeed. Perhaps. Not. Bad.

She walked over to her green-and-silver clad table and as she went, she noticed the gaze Ron Weasley was giving her. She raised her eyebrows. It looked as if he pitied her or worried for her. Why on earth?

She had noticed already that her table was rather subdued compared to the others so she just sat down on the bench and watched the rest of the Sorting. Harry Potter and Ron were both placed in Gryffindor. She had wanted to be in that house...but well, she was a Slytherin now. No house could be better. Never mind what she heard about Gryffindor on the train.

"...Nitwit. Oddment. Blubber. Tweak. Thank you!"

Hermione grinned at Professor Dumbledore as he sat back down. He's a funny, charming fellow, wasn't he?

"Mad as an old hatter."

"Excuse me?"

The boy beside her turned to her haughtily, his brow raised. He unfolded his napkin with a flourish. "Who addresses me?"

"My name is Hermione Granger. You are?"

"If you don't know me, you better not address me." And the two bigger boys on his other side sniggered at this, but quieted when a ghost with silver blood-stains all over his spectral robes settled between them and the haughty boy.

"How would I know you then if I don't?"

The two bigger boys choked mid-bite. And Hermione couldn't tell whether it was because of her or the ghost. They were rather uncouth compared to this blonde boy, who, though he looked askance eating next to a ghost, was prissily cutting his chicken into titbits before forking them into his mouth. At her reply and at his companions' reactions, he smirked and picked up his goblet, turning to her again in that haughty manner, his pointed chin tilted.

"Oh, you want to know me, mudblood?"

Hermione almost jumped at the tangible frisson that passed through their table just then. The ghost _and_ some of the older years hissed. "Malfoy! Please don't talk like that when we're eating," one of them called, a girl who had a green and silver badge on her robes.

"Well, what pureblood doesn't know a Malfoy?" Malfoy asked, wiping his chin and scowling at the girl who had scolded him.

A black-haired girl their age, with a rather stubby nose, seated opposite Hermione, leaned forward. "You're not a mudblood, are you?"

Hermione made a mental note to research what this term meant. Everyone was looking at her, so she lifted her own chin. "All I know, is I'm a Slytherin now."

Everyone went back to eating, but she noticed—she inoticed/i they blinked impressed. She smiled at the girl. "May I know iyour/i name? Oh, wait, I know—Pansy Parkinson, right?"

"You should have remembered Draco's name as well. Their family's older than mine." Pansy smiled back and she inclined her head slightly to acknowledge Hermione.

* * *

_**-Go to the balcony**_

The Slytherin common room was not unlike a real snake's hole in its cramped conditions that hour. The enchanted walls showed rain lashing at the illusory glass. No one wanted to be the first to turn in after the evening's excitement. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened...blood on the wall...a cat Petrified...

None of these scared her in the least, but she had business to finish first. She never went to bed with an agenda unaccomplished.

She walked over to one of the couches. "Pansy, why are you and all the girls avoiding me all of a sudden?"

_"Because_ they don't want to catch their deaths hanging out with you, mudblood."

"Stop calling me 'mudblood', Malfoy, and I wasn't talking to you just now, though I'll get to you later. Pansy?"

"Why do you care? You have your Gryffindor pals, don't you?" Pansy answered, not looking up at Hermione from filing her fingernails.

"And you have your Ravenclaw crushes." Hermione grinned when Pansy looked up and glared. "Look, Harry and Ron are not bad, but that's not the point. I still am a Slytherin, so I do hold my Slytherin friends in esteem as well. But that might stop if you girls suddenly treat me like scum."

"That's exactly what you are, mudblood, always helping that damn Gryffindor duo."

"Malfoy, stop calling me that," Hermione said as if she was asking him to please pass her the marmalade at breakfast, all smiling.

"That's what you are, mudblood, can't be helped. You should have been among those Gryffindorks after all; they're the ones who consort with the likes of you. I'll bet you anything all of them will be wiped out by end of term."

Pansy hadn't gone back to filing her nails. And those near the couch were also in on their conversation now. The reason for this was Malfoy's disgustingly loud drawl, and smirk, and...Hermione could feel her blood pumping in her face—as well as her wand's woodwork cutting into her palm as she clenched it tightly.

Flying into rages was undignified. And cursing Malfoy would only invite retaliation. She flopped down on the couch between Pansy and Malfoy. She let out a breath and snatched Malfoy's bag of Bertie Bott's from his lap. She took her time looking for lime. When she found it, she held it up; the smooth green bean glinted in the firelight.

"Draco, I'm a true Slytherin, and if you want proof, just call me that foul 'M' word again. I know that spell Ron failed to cast on you properly. I know it in theory and execution, and as with all spells I know, I know it _perfectly_. Your dear mother will have to have a platinum or gold-plated bucket made for you to wear around your neck for the rest of your privileged life. iAnd/i my wand's not broken, nor is it likely to ever be.

"As for you, Pansy, you're welcome to keep away. I understand. Especially after Draco's erudite explanation. Don't worry; I'll still help you with homework. Just let me know because all my work has jinxes on them to keep others from filching from them, and I wouldn't want that peaches-and-cream complexion of yours ruined."

She stood up. Pansy and Malfoy and the rest of their audience around the couch followed her with their eyes. She saw them all crick their necks when she turned after reaching the stairs to the dormitories. She kept her face impassive though.

"Oh, and Draco!" Malfoy turned to her at once. "You don't happen to know anything about the Chamber of Secrets, do you? I'm curious. And you're the one with the most ancient lineage here, not to mention some connection to You-Know-Who."

"My father was only Imperiused, Granger. And no, I don't know much about the Chamber, Father wouldn't tell me, mind, except that the said 'enemies' are Mud—Muggleborns. Slytherin detested them."

"I wonder why I'm here then!" Hermione faked a look of utter incredulity.

"That's because you're special, you wicked wench," Pansy muttered, back to her nail filing, but she was half-sneering, half-fondly-smiling at Hermione.

* * *

**_-Listen carefully_**

"So, back from your making-up tryst with Potty and the Weasel at the Hospital Wing, eh?"

"Pansy, it doesn't become you to imitate Draco's childishness, so take my advice and stop it. Where is he, anyway?"

"Is it true you slapped him over that shaggy gamekeeper monster that almost got him killed this year?"

"First, yes, I slapped him, and I'll do it again. Secondly, no, Hagrid is not a monster, and lastly, no, your precious Draco wasn't even close to dying this year. Where is he?"

"What do you want, mudblood? Why don't you just stay with your blood traitor pals? It's only when your little adventures end that you come back to us."

"It's not as if you're jealous, are you? Whatever would Pansy think?" Hermione smirked.

"That's so horrible I shall have to make a note to shut you up, mudblood, someday when the Unforgivables are no longer unforgivable."

"Oh, do stop being melodramatic, you're crap at it. I just wanted to apologize—I mean, I'm not sorry I hit you, you and your foul mouth deserved it, but still, I shouldn't have done it. All my work stress just overpowered me there."

Draco swooped the rest of his way down the stairs from his dorm and grabbed her upper arms. Pansy gasped. "What am I supposed to say to that, you bitch? How dare you! My own mother hasn't so much as raised her hands on me."

"Well, she should have! Look at you, spoiled rotten."

Draco gave her a slight shake. "You've tried for the last two years, but I will _not_ be henpecked by you like that damn Potter and Weasley allow!"

"I can see that, Draco. That's what makes you different from them, you know. Let go of me."

Draco obeyed. Pansy had dropped onto the sofa in awe. Hermione looked at Draco. Her empathy was in overdrive. Why was it that she always saw through people and their facades?

"You're not still upset about Harry's Firebolt, are you?" Hermione asked, sitting beside Pansy and pulling Draco down beside them.

He snatched his wrist away from her hold with a snarl. "I will never be upset about your _Harry's_ anything."

Hermione laughed. "You didn't listen to me about that Dementor prank. Really, that was ridiculous. And if I were you, I wouldn't whine to your mother to have a Firebolt as well."

"Whyever not—I don't whine, stupid!"

This time, Pansy joined Hermione's laughter.

"Well," Hermione began, when their mirth had subsided. "You must admit we don't exactly have the brightest team in the school. When we loose next year again, at least you now have an excuse, both to Professor Snape and your father—Harry's Firebolt."

"I can't believe you," Draco rolled his eyes. But his words had a hint of...acquiescence.

* * *

**_-Let everybody win_**

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you have a life with Gryffindors in it, Granger? Pry into theirs, not mine."

"i'Potter stinks.'/i How droll."

"Yeah, isn't it? Do you know how to cover it up with a more wholesome message? But I want this one to appear when I'm inclined—"

"You mean, when no teachers are looking."

"We all know your above-par deducing abilities."

"Oh, well."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Malfoy huffed impatiently. "I take back my undue praise for your trollish deducing abilities. Can you make this even cleverer—worthy of a Slytherin? I don't want it coarse like this."

"Of course I can. The question is if I will."

"What do you want, Granger? Oh and stop trying to cure me of calling you 'mudblood', that's our pet name for you."

"What are your plans with this? Aside from taunting Harry, of course."

"Are you mental? What else would I want to do with Potter other than humiliate him and provoke him into getting detention and losing fifty points from his house?"

"Hmmm. He _should_ lose some points. After all, we've been whipped over the House Cup thrice already. He can regain glory from the First Task anyway."

"You're so sure he'll survive the First Task?"

"I'll make sure. You're not my only friend, Draco," she said sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

Draco rolled his eyes and gagged. "So what about me?"

"I'll make these badges Slytherin-worthy, and in return—"

"Yes? I love it when you're plotting and scheming, only times your Slytherin shows up."

Hermione preened. "In return, you will tell your friend, Krum that he can find me at the library."

"What? But you said he's too surly for you!"

"I've decided to overlook my first impression and give him a chance."

"Yeah, right, Granger. You're just afraid Weasley and Potter will stand you up and not ask you to the coming ball."

"I have you to thank for your hints at the train. I've read all there is to know now about the Tournament. And I'm not exactly 'afraid', but I prefer being two steps ahead of everything."

"Right. But I warn you, Pansy will be jealous of the attention you'll get."

Hermione shrugged. "Let her be jealous. Even if she does something about it, I'll have something up my sleeve, as always."

"So I'll tell Krum where he'll see you. What else?"

"To get fifty points from Harry, you will have to have your wands out. And of course, you'll do this just before Potions. And of course, you will have to insult me."

"What's the benefit to you there?"

"You mustn't back away from the duel—"

"As if, Granger!"

"—and you must hit me with your curse."

"What?"

"iDensaugeo,/i Draco. iDensaugeo./i I want to have my teeth fixed—"

"And you want it to look like you did it extempore, not out of sheer vanity." Draco grinned.

Hermione grinned back. "Slytherin minds think alike."

* * *

_**-Always have an ace up your sleeve**_

"Millicent, I need air!"

"What you need is some chastisement, perhaps an expelling, Miss Granger. You should have known better. Why didn't you heed your house's majority?" Professor Umbridge crooned. "You are too loyal to Potter for your own good. Now what was it you were talking about with whomever it was you were talking? Speak, girl, or Potter will be Cruciatused."

"I willingly risked being expelled to be useful for you, Professor. By joining Harry, I was able to spy for the Squad though I didn't officially enlist."

_"Mwaf?"_

"Ron, if your gag isn't enough to silence you, I'll ask Draco to Stun you. Professor, you caught Harry and me trying to search for Professor Dumbledore—"

"You know where Dumbledore is then?"

"No, I was_ trying_ to locate him. We wanted to ask him his final directions with regards to the weapon—"

"Weapon? Weapon?" said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?"

"Yes. We've finished it now and it resides in the Forest."

"The Forest? Professor, don't believe her, she's only trying to distract us into leaving this room so that Potter and the others can escape. She's a cunning Slytherin after all," Draco drawled, smirking."

Hermione laughed. "And that's just what I was expecting another cunning iand jealous/i Slytherin to say. You wish you're in my place, don't you, Draco?"

"Stop that," Umbridge snapped, tugging Hermione upright from the chair she had been thrust into. "Ms Granger, dear, you shall lead me to the weapon. We'll take Potter, too, shall we? Draco, the rest of you can stay here and remain guard."

Hermione pasted a grim look on her face. However, when the three of them were nearly out of the room, she couldn't help looking back and catching Draco's eye. "Good luck with guard duty. I'm sure you'll do well."

* * *

_**-Do something surprising**_

"I almost wish I had befriended your Saint Potter like you did."

"You're high on opium essence right now, I think," Hermione said kindly, straightening a non-existent crease on Draco's blankets.

They were in the hospital wing. It was just after dinner, just after Hermione had lashed out on Harry about using that ignoble spell from that ignoble book. Pansy had left to sob in relief in peace, without Draco yelling at her to stop it or get the bloody hell out.

"He's got detention until the end of term, let that console you."

"Why aren't you gloating, Granger? Didn't you say on the train that I was only sent to this mission as punishment for my father? That I'm destined to fail? And now I'm in the hospital wing sent here by a rather brilliant curse from your Saint Potter, another delay in my plans."

"I don't consider it brilliant. It was evil. And you know me, I don't go with evil." She looked at him and left volumes of meaning from that statement communicate itself in silence. "The popular theory is that this has something to do with my being a mudblood, Slytherin inclinations overshadowed and all that. But back to the current subject, you haven't told us what this mission is, so how can I judge your difficulties? You also refuse all help. Besides, gloating is done only after a fair fight. And this isn't fair on you, not at all, is it?"

Another silence fell between them, a silence so deep they both imagined they heard the Slytherin portal in the dungeons below groaning open and close on Pansy.

"I can do this, Granger. I can."

"No, you can't."

And before he could blink at her venomous hiss, she had snatched his wand from his bedside table and placed it tip-to-tip with her own wand.

_"Protei Incantatem 'Avada Kedavra'."_

A cloud had sailed through the sky outside, momentarily blocking the moonlight streaming in through the windows of the dimmed ward, so that when Hermione uttered the spell, the flame-coloured light that sizzled from her wand to his glowed ethereally.

"What the bloody hell, Granger!" Draco snarled through his teeth, grabbing his wand back and throwing Hermione onto the next bed. The springs underneath her gave a resonant 'twang'.

"What did you do, you miserable mudblood?" Draco hissed, his face even paler now, it almost shone in the semi-darkness.

"Oh, don't you know?" Hermione whispered back from the bed. She made no move to get up. She lay there with her legs down the side of the bed, her arms on her belly, one hand holding her wand, pointing to the pillow. "That was an Incantation Protean Charm. My own invention. It looked like it will work; did you see the necromantic light?"

Draco bore down on her, grabbed her upper arms like he did in third year, and shook her. "What for?" he gritted.

Hermione smiled and brought up her hands to touch his where his fingers were digging into her skin. "If you ever use Avada Kedavra, my wand will mimic your wand's action. And of course, as I _don't go with evil,_ I wouldn't point my wand at anybody. And as Avada Kedavra has devastating potency, I won't just cast into open air either."

Slowly, as though moving against the Impediment Jinx, she got up. Draco gave no resistance, even as she reversed their positions and was the one shaking him and hissing at his face.

"You almost killed Katie, _and Ron!_ I know it was you. You're pathetic. How long will you be so stupid? I'm not punishing you, mind. If I wanted to do that, I would have long gone to Dumbledore and gotten you expelled and back to your filthy Death Eater friends and to whatever they will do to you."

She gasped when a tear escaped from her eyes. She straightened and wiped it off angrily. Draco just stared at her. She glared at him and turned to leave. "I just wish you'll wake up, Draco. The only mindless Slytherins around are Crabbe and Goyle."

* * *

_**-Don't gloat**_

"I'm so glad."

Narcissa was in a room upstairs. The hubbub had quieted for the night, and Draco was in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with Hermione, both of them nursing mugs of cocoa doled with some firewhiskey.

"That's all you'll say, you're glad?"

"What do you want me to say, you idiot?"

"Why were you and your precious Potty and Weasel only looking at me as if I'm a long-lost puppy? I would have preferred sneers."

"Would you have, really?"

Draco didn't answer. He just scowled and threatened to glower a hole right through the table. Hermione bit her cheeks to keep from laughing. She just let the silence envelop them again, like the warmth from the fireplace.

"Call Lupin. I have a lot to tell him."

An hour later, Hermione took Draco to a room of his own and Lupin assembled the Order in the kitchen to tell them what he had gathered from the young Malfoy. Everyone was silent afterwards.

"He told you all that?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Don't be so surprised. Our Hermione had a way with him, hadn't she?"

Ron choked on his cocoa and sputtered angrily. Everyone laughed. Lupin was smiling. "I only meant, that she had done well, she followed the most important tenet of getting influence over people. She built camaraderie with them."

"Yeah, I almost forget she's a Slytherin sometimes," said Harry.

"No, you won't if she has set canaries on your face," replied Ron.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The underlined tips are directly borrowed from Reader's Digest June 1994. I inherited that issue from an aunt, and I loved it because aside from the article about doggies, it had this: How to Gain Clout.

There you go, Hermione in Slytherin. I honestly think she will fit in any house. She has the four values interwoven into her like a wonderful double French braid. Have I done well? Do tell. (Oh my, I rhymed.)


End file.
